


Starched Sheets

by FollyOfWinchester



Series: Nothing Good Will Come [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Canon Compliant, Deleted Scenes, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Extended Scene, Headcanon, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Regret, Season/Series 07 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FollyOfWinchester/pseuds/FollyOfWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean meets Emmanuel and Castiel meets Dean again. Set during s07e17 The Born-Again Identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Won't

“Oh, I…don’t feel like a bad person.”

The words sting like booze on a fresh wound. This is not how Dean had expected this to go. It’s easy to forgive someone who’s dead, someone you’ll never see again. It’s easy to remember just the good times and let the shitty stuff slide. But when they’re not actually dead and staring you in the face, things change. When your brother’s brain is killing him because of them, things change. When all you can think about is how deep they fucking cut you, things definitely change.

“Emmanuel” sits quietly in a space Dean had reserved for two people, Sam or his Cas, and Emmanuel was neither. Emmanuel represented the Cas he had chosen to let slide in favor of his Cas, his Cas that he would do anything for, his Cas from before the bullshit civil war in Heaven. His grip tightens on the steering wheel until his knuckles are white against the rest of his hands. All of the fury, rage, pain, loss, every negative emotion that had dulled while he was working through the whole shebang reignites, but at the same time the messed up amnesia limbo Emmanuel’s stuck in leaves Dean without anywhere to channel his anger. He can’t really be mad at Emmanuel and he can’t really yell at Cas, so he settles for fuming silently for a few minutes. 

_Here’s this asshole who doesn’t even know what a bastard he was in the first place. Is this some kind of sick joke? Is he playing pretend? I can’t decide which is worse, him fucking with me like that or him…never remembering. Maybe his memory was squeegeed clean for good. What if his brain was replaced? What if he’s one of like a million Cas stormtrooper clones waiting in the wings for when he screws up and gets exploded, and they messed up the memory download this time? What if he literally can’t remember, ever?_ Dean sighs. _Or maybe he’s got a wall up like Sam did back before Cas…_ Dean grimaces. _Goddamnit, this whole thing is such a fucking train wreck. I should just tell him the truth…but if he does have some kind of wall, will telling him stuff chip away at it and send him catatonic? Will he start seeing things? Will he panic and flap off to Antarctica or Peru or something?_ Dean sighs and shuts his eyes for a second. _I can’t risk it. Sam needs this son of a bitch, memory or no. I just gotta go along with this Emmanuel bullshit until Sam’s back vertical. Then I can—_

That painfully familiar voice breaks his concentration. “Dean? You look troubled.”

Dean looks over at Emmanuel and scoffs under his breath. _Yeah, no shit._ In an attempt not to let loose and unload everything he has stored up to say to Cas on poor ol’ unassuming Emmanuel, he reminds himself that this isn’t really him meeting Cas again for the first time since the leviathans used him as a surfboard to freedom. There’s still a chance that Cas will wake back up in there and beg Dean for redemption like he pictured. He resigns himself to holding off until Cas has a chance to apologize before being pissed that he hasn’t. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on having your healing mojo ready to go when we get there.”

~*~


	2. He Can't

“But, how, Dean? How can I fix any of it? What can I do to even begin to atone?” Castiel cradled the bloodstained, watermarked trenchcoat in his arms. Dean had saved it. Dean had carried it with him along with his memories of Castiel. Even though Sam was dying because of his actions, Dean had wanted to remember him. Castiel hung his head in shame at how unworthy he felt of such thoughtfulness and care.

Dean’s impatient hands shot into his field of vision to grasp at the fabric he was holding, “Well, you can mark off Step 1, at least: not being dead. And Step 2 is fixing the Great Wall of Sam,” Dean pulled Castiel’s arm into position and then carefully slid his trenchcoat to settle around his shoulders, “After that, I guess we can make it up as we go, you know…like old times.”

The phrase reminded Castiel of one strange evening some years past. He contemplated how much the appearance of Dean’s soul had changed since learning of his allegiance with Crowley, his betrayal, and everything that came after. Where once there had been a few blindingly bright rays of hope, joy, and passion connected with Castiel, now there were only dim flickerings, marred by all the scars of pain, of loss, of abandonment, of guilt, of…utter hopelessness. “It was you. From recently, I mean. You prayed to me on the fifth of November in 1944. You said, ‘Goodbye.’ You said, ‘We’re good.’ How? How could you possibly forgive me? I remember thinking, ‘What could I have done that would leave such horrific marks on a human soul?’ Now I see all too clearly. I…please, tell me how I can—“

Castiel could not finish his plea because Dean…was kissing him? The very idea that Dean would consider kissing him ever again, much less at this particular moment, was so far out of the realm of possibility in Castiel’s mind that it took him several seconds to reciprocate. Once the initial wave of desperate need to transmit every detail of his unending love for Dean through his frantic participation had crashed over him and then passed, he slowed the movements of his lips to a few tender caresses and Dean followed suit. With one last nip at Dean’s bottom lip, he broke the kiss to speak, “Dean, I remembered your words. I kept telling myself that whatever I was going to do would be forgiven, that you had forgiven me for whatever I had to do to stop Raphael, so I just kept pushing forward. But I…I never expected something like this… After I fix Sam, I need your help, your guidance. Let’s travel together, hunt together, be…together.”

Dean gaze had fallen to the ground as Castiel spoke, but after a moment of contemplation he looked up and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Let’s fix this shit together.”

~*~


End file.
